Tomorrow's Crimes ll Moriarty the Patriot

Prologue

15th May, 1876

Dr. Edmund Harrington

Royal Bethlem Hospital

London

Dear Dr. Harrington,

I write to you with a heart burdened by despair and a mind clouded with utmost concern regarding my daughter, Lady Adelaide Blackwood. I beseech you, with all the urgency a father can muster, to lend us your expertise in these dark and trying times.

Two weeks ago, Adelaide suffered a terrible accident while horseback riding on our estate. She fell and struck her head with such force that we feared for her life. Though she appeared to recover physically, I am convinced the incident has left a far more insidious mark upon her mind.

Since that fateful day, Adelaide has exhibited behavior that can only be described as deeply troubling and utterly foreign to her nature. She seems a stranger to us, Dr. Harrington, a changeling who has usurped our daughter's form but possesses none of her previous temperament or reason.

Allow me to recount the alarming incidents that have transpired:

Merely days after her accident, Adelaide locked herself in her chambers for nearly three days. She refused all entreaties to emerge, ignoring the pleas of her mother and myself. When our staff attempted to enter with the spare key, she barricaded the door with furniture. We could hear her within, muttering incessantly to herself in a language none of us recognized.

When she finally emerged, Adelaide was a shadow of her former self. Her eyes were wild and unfocused, her hair unkempt, and her skin pallid from lack of nourishment. She had barely eaten during her self-imposed confinement, subsisting on only what little food had been in her room.

Since then, her behavior has grown increasingly erratic. My once demure and proper daughter now attempts to flee the mansion at every opportunity, as though possessed by some wild urge for escape. On two occasions, we found her wandering the grounds at night, barefoot and clad only in her nightgown, babbling about needing to "find her way back."

Adelaide 's emotional state is alarmingly volatile. One moment she is seized by inexplicable fits of weeping, lamenting the loss of people none of us have ever heard of. The next, she erupts into outbursts of defiance, demanding we cease our "charade" and admit to some grand deception she believes we are perpetrating.

Most disturbing of all, Adelaide speaks of impossible things. She claims to have knowledge of events yet to occur, describing fantastical devices beyond the realm of current science. It is as though she believes herself to be from some future world. She has accused us of being "actors" in an elaborate performance and has more than once referred to herself by a different name entirely.

Her appetite remains poor, and she often refuses to eat, claiming that the food is "wrong" or "not real." She spends hours staring at her reflection, as though unable to recognize herself. When she does speak to us, it is with a mixture of confusion and barely concealed hostility, as though we are strangers to her.

My wife, Lady Catherine, is beside herself with worry. She has taken to her bed, overcome by nervous exhaustion from the strain of watching our beloved child deteriorate before our eyes. The servants whisper amongst themselves, and I fear rumors of Adelaide 's condition may soon spread beyond our household, tarnishing her reputation irreparably.

Dr. Harrington, I cannot overstate the gravity of our situation. We fear that the blow to Adelaide's head may have irreparably damaged her mind. The thought that our cherished daughter might be descending into true madness is a nightmare from which we cannot wake.

I implore you, with all the influence my position affords me, to examine Adelaide at your earliest convenience. Your reputation as a healer of troubled minds is unparalleled throughout England. If there is any hope of curing this alarming affliction and restoring our daughter to her true self, surely it lies with you.

We stand ready to compensate you handsomely for your services and to submit to any treatment you deem necessary, no matter how innovative or unconventional. I beg of you, sir, help us save our child from the abyss that threatens to claim her.

We await your response with bated breath, clinging to the hope that you might be our salvation in this hour of need.

Yours in utmost desperation,

Lord George Blackwood

Duke of Ravenscroft